


Loki Is Carried By Everyone

by withinmelove



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Carrying, Deadpool being Deadpool, Fluff, Gen, Loki Feels, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 01:01:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10933716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withinmelove/pseuds/withinmelove
Summary: The beloved trope of 5 Times + One Time Not. This time it's Loki getting himself in various situations that causes him to be carried by the Avengers and one time he gets to carry one of them in return. A plus one with a special guest.





	Loki Is Carried By Everyone

**Author's Note:**

> The very last section is roughly edited but please don't let that deter you. As ever I continue to be frustrated by my slow writing skills and lack of knowledge with commas. This fic came from the fact I loved the idea of Loki being carried by Thor, Steve and Bucky because holy hell slender little Loki being manhandled by those three beefcakes.

**1.**  
The first time Loki is carried by an Avenger, he and the team are fighting for their lives.

If Loki had it his way, he’d never interact with them again. A failed attempt to get the Tesseract has left no love in their hearts for him. Granted, Thor never gives up. Truly the most determined masochist. However, events across the universes have become most dire. Robots of unknown origin have begun to terrorize every planet they come to. They have already proven that they can gain entrance to Asgard without Heimdall’s permission with ease. The very gods themselves quail at these metal beasts, which their spells and curses can’t dismantle. 

Fate, which has never been kind to Loki, has pushed him to work with the Avengers. It’s impossible to ignore their call to arms; to refuse would mean complete annihilation later. 

Even with his help, it seems death is imminent when Tony is knocked unconscious. The team needs him to disarm the forty-storey-tall robot that is rampaging through Iowa (instead of New York City or Washington, for a change). A different tactic from most villains, who try attacking the seats of power. A rather clever idea, to start destroying the bread basket states and watch the rest of the country wither. 

He doesn’t notice Iron Man’s been taken down at first as he’s struggling to right himself on Peter’s hover board (a modified skateboard, Tony called it). A swipe from the robot destroyed one of the boosters on the bottom and it’s become quite unstable to pilot. Balance is his once again seconds before he’s nearly bowled off.

“ _Tony!_ ” Wanda’s scream rips into their earpieces.

Loki flinches at the shrillness, pinwheeling his arms to remain on the board even as he scans the ground to find where Iron Man lies prone (a red blot on the torn-up pavement) before he’s diving off the hover board. This automaton is not simply a mindless killing machine. It knows to move towards the currently defenseless Iron Man (who managed to shut down one of its arms early in the fight), ignoring the Avengers who are working to distract it. 

All will be lost if Stark is killed now; besides, what a horrific death to suffer, squished to a bloody pulp beneath a robot’s foot.

“Damn your invention!” Loki snarls, fingers slipping uselessly off of the metal suit. He can move Tony out of harm’s way easier without the enormous weight of the body armor. Trouble is, he doesn’t know how to unlock it. He’s only managed to figure out how to put up the visor when the world turns into a sideways blur - Loki instead of Tony being the target of the robot’s swipe. The pain is excruciating as he sails through the air, screaming when his shin is caught in rubble and broken by the sheer momentum of the rest of his body, stopped only by his trapped leg. He slumps over, panting as he swallows against the vomit rushing up his throat. His skin is cold, as is the fresh sweat that breaks out over his face. 

“Sam, help me!” Steve calls from behind him. 

The impact of his landing has Loki gritting his teeth. The force of it shakes the rubble, grinding against his broken leg. A second later, hands are on his jaw, forcing him to look up into the battered face of Captain America. Dark blue and purple bruises have discolored almost the entirety of his skin. One eye is swelling shut and his bottom lip has split open, trailing blood down his chin. 

Such ice-blue eyes. 

“Steve, leave him!”

Loki will kill whoever that is when he’s got enough sense to identify the voice. Perhaps from a perverted sense of goodwill, Steve does not leave him to be killed in the mayhem. Instead, he puts Loki’s right arm around his broad shoulders, then his arms encircle his waist and loop under his knees. He doesn’t promise that anything will be alright, just focuses on getting them out of there.

A scream is torn from him when Rogers’ flying friend swoops down to grab them both up and out of the way of a blast from the robot, horribly jarring his broken bones. Unconsciousness swallows him up. 

The next time he opens his eyes it’s to once again meet the gaze of Steve Rogers. He rubs at his eyelashes, wiping away the sleep grit before struggling to sit up in the bed. A shock to see he’s not in a containment box, but a bedroom, the Captain’s shield telling of whose it is. 

Odd; perhaps the Avengers don’t care to have him in their infirmary, although his leg has been at the very least splinted. Whatever he’s been given for the pain (without a doubt Thor fetched something from home) has got him woozy. It’s not until he’s managed to sag upright into the bunches of pillows behind him that Steve offers him a drink. Rogers says nothing as Loki drains the cup, eyes still calmly watching his every move. 

“Have you something to say, Rogers? Or are you shocked to see a god can be injured like yourself?” 

A blink before Steve shakes his head, unsmiling. Loki frowns at him. Where is the man who last lectured him before a crowd of kneeling mortals? If there was ever a perfect moment for a scolding from Captain America, it would be now. Perhaps on the fact that he’s selfish for not helping Midgard at any other times. 

More snipes are on his tongue; however, Steve standing up quiets him. 

“Thank you for what you did, Loki. We couldn’t have lasted as long as we did without you.” A humorless smile quirks his lips. “The others wouldn’t agree, but it’s true. I can’t offer you my place for too long, but while you’re healing up, you can stay.” 

Loki raises an eyebrow. “Why the kindness, Captain? Aren’t you afraid of going against your precious team? I don’t remember earning this kind of treatment.”

Steve shrugs. “You’re not completely irredeemable, Loki. You just choose to be the villain because that’s what you’ve let yourself be cast as by others. It doesn’t excuse what you did to my friends, and I haven’t forgiven you for that, but I wouldn’t deserve to hold that shield if I let you die out of pettiness. Anyways, I wanted to make sure you didn’t stop breathing after Thor gave you whatever weird medicine that was. He said it would knock you out. He wasn’t kidding - you looked almost dead there a few times.”

Loki sighs as he rolls his eyes. 

**2.**  
The label of villain doesn’t always come with the best of rewards. One such consequence of the title is being abducted by other bad guys. This lot of forgettable criminals want to figure out how to harness his Jotun powers. They are intelligent enough to have forged bindings that won’t break under his superior strength, but haven’t gotten much farther than sticking him with needles, injecting various substances with varying adverse effects, and beating him when boredom pushes him to start making snide comments. Of course, it’s not that he enjoys it, but, like an animal locked up in a tiny space, he soon turns to self-mutilation no matter the form. 

It’s Bucky who carries Loki the second time. 

He arrives just after the daily injection. Normally Loki’s body would metabolize the substances without much issue, but a week’s worth of assorted poisons, sedatives and what-have-you has left him weak with no desire to try and escape. What’s the point, when he’s assured that he’ll have no friends to come for him?

The popping of gunfire is what stirs Loki from sleep where he’s sprawled on his stomach on the mattress they’ve given him. These are no target practice noises, but actual fighting. Perhaps a rival has found out what this lot is holding and decided to come have a look for themselves. A sigh escapes him as he lays his head back down. Whoever and for whatever reason doesn’t really matter at this point. 

Maybe ten minutes have passed before quiet descends. Loki’s just settling in to go back to sleep when measured footfalls ring out against the concrete floor. Again he opens his eyes - this isn’t the gait of any of his captors. He’s not left in suspense a moment longer, for the person reveals themselves as none other than Bucky Barnes. Thor tells him the man’s regained his sense of humanity now that he’s been reunited with his beloved Steve Rogers, but at this moment it certainly doesn’t look like it. 

A mask ( _a muzzle_ ) covers the lower half of his face, with thick dark goggles protecting his eyes. Well, if he’s to have a savior, Loki supposes a once-brainwashed super soldier isn’t the worst choice. Better than the Hulk. He grimaces at the thought of that monster coming to save him. 

A grating scream of metal in his ears as Bucky rips the door off its hinges with ease before he enters. For a moment, he just stands over him, and if Loki was different he might even be intimidated by the bulky man. It’s his eyes that give him away. There is no animosity in his expression, but rather understanding. A monster seeing its fellow.

In the next instant, he kneels down beside the mattress and rolls Loki onto his back. Keys jingle in his hand before he’s unlocking the metal cuffs from around his ankles and knees. A pause before Bucky cradles his head, fingers in his hair, and releases the gag from his mouth. Loki only has time enough to draw a breath before the gag is replaced an instant later with the muzzle. He’s rolled again, now onto his stomach, and Bucky brushes Loki’s hair out of the way to cinch the snap lock buckles on the mask. 

Really, if they always have to shut his mouth it’s no surprise that the ragtag team of Avengers are so easily goaded into emotional outbursts. Granted, Loki’s quite glad of the fact Bucky is disinclined to make jibes or lecture him. He settles Loki piggyback-style (his bound wrists around Bucky’s throat) before setting off. It’s a decidedly cozy position to be in, with Loki’s thighs clamped around his hips and Bucky’s hands grasping the underside of his knees to keep him from sliding down. This also means either his face is in the soldier’s hair or his forehead is on his shoulder. The lack of mobility in his arms gives him very few options to choose from.

Any other time, he would protest being held like this, but then again if Loki wasn’t incapacitated he wouldn’t be in this position in the first place. It’s clear from the too-still bodies strewn all over that Bucky’s done his job disarming the compound, and now here he is taking the prize back to the Avengers. Loki rests his forehead against Bucky’s shoulder. Who cares? For now, all he wants to do is sleep off this damned cocktail of poisons. Later he can be concerned about what others make of this display.

Down the road from the compound, hidden among the trees and brush, is a motorcycle. 

“Lift up,” Bucky says. Loki does so, removing his arms from around his throat, grasping at his shoulders for balance when Bucky lets go of his legs. The soldier turns and grabs hold of the thick handcuffs before Loki can so much as take a step back.

“I’m going to let you outta these for the ride, now - you could attack me and we’d have a brawl where one of us wins.” He raises his eyebrows meaningfully. Loki’s guessing he’s not the envisioned champion even with his magic. “Or you cooperate so we don’t need to fight and I bring you back with no fuss. I’d let you go but -” He shrugs. “Thor and the rest want to see you’re okay. You helped us once, so they want to return the favor. No owing you anything.” 

So what can he do at this point but go along with the plan? Loki nods, turning his hands palms up and open. Bucky eyes him for a moment before he unlocks the cuffs. They fall away to reveal bloodied wrists and forearms from where the metal has rubbed away the skin. No healing ability at the moment either. What startlingly fragile lives and bodies Midgardians have, Loki realizes. No wonder so many grasp at immortality without a second thought. Anything not to give way to the decay of delicate skin and organs.

The grasp of Bucky’s hands around his own brings him back. A frown deepens the lines around the soldier’s mouth at the deep abrasions, turning Loki’s arms over so he can see the full extent of the damage. After a moment, he pulls out a transparent bottle full of sloshing liquid from a pocket. 

“Don’t flinch,” he orders, before carefully dousing the wounds. Loki doesn’t, just pulls a displeased face at the sting of the solution. He’ll heal from all of this within the next couple of days, but his rescuer is in no mood for argument. Besides, keeping quiet means he’s bandaged quicker. Minutes later, they’re off, heading to their pick-up location an hour out from their current area. Normally he would question why the long stretch of travel for a prisoner gravely injured, but he doesn’t bother with it this time; instead, for the duration of the trip he rests his chin on Bucky’s shoulder. It’ll be the last time that he’ll have the freedom to be so familiar with the super soldier anyways. 

**3.**  
Clint is the third one to carry Loki about as if he weighs nothing. Really, a Prince and once-King of Asgard has some dignity! But this is what he gets for trying to be helpful out of the pure kindness of his heart. Stupid, weird alien _flowers_ spraying him in the face.

What kicks off Loki getting a faceful of strange flora pollen is an alien race coming to Midgard with friendly intentions.. They’re curious about humans and interested in understanding this new species. In a gesture of friendship, they give flowers to the Avengers, who have assembled to meet (or fight) with the newcomers. Loki, unfamiliar with most flora not from Asgard, is rather charmed by its appearance. The bouquet emits a soft pearly blue light from its petals. Upon seeing this, Tony pronounces the flowers creepy and refuses to have any contact with them. In the name of not insulting their guests, Loki takes charge of holding them while the Avengers discuss terms of friendship.

The ignorant newcomers don’t take into account the fact that other species likely will react differently to the flowers’ chemicals than they themselves do. It’s not until the Avengers have brought the bouquet back to the tower that the incident occurs. At this point, the others have all gone off to do their own activities. Loki, meanwhile, is still quite interested in the flora. He strokes the petals gently, unfurling one where it curls under itself. The throat is a deep purple scattered with dots of white inside. By no means a botanist, he muses about whether they would survive on Asgard. Frigga would love these without a doubt. He’s pondering whether or not they would become an invasive species to their own plant life when the flower gives a soft squeak as Loki rubs the soft silky petals between his thumb and forefinger. 

He frowns at it before repeating the action, resulting in a burst of pollen. At once he sneezes, swiping at the air to try and clear it. 

The side effects of the flower are slow-acting, it turns out.

It’s late evening when Loki collapses. One moment he’s sprinting towards the finish line of the indoor track (a handy investment on Stark’s end for his super pets), the next he’s gone face-first into the painted line scraping the right side of his face, muscles trembling as if his blood sugar has suddenly dropped. All Loki can do is lay there panting, the sweat coursing down his face. He’s too weak even to push himself over. Fear is an icy trickle in his stomach. There should be no reason he’s this fatigued. 

The pollen from the flower - 

Unbidden, a giggle escapes him. What a stupid way to be felled, by a flower’s magical dust. Like a broken dam, Loki laughs until he’s breathless, tears streaming from his eyes. Why, he’s just like that Midgardian fable of the girl who pricks her finger on a spindle. But where is his dashing prince? Or maybe princess, in this case. He snorts even as ice grips his heart. This isn’t natural, but the laughter that won’t stop wipes away his unease moments later. 

It’s in this state that Clint finds him. 

Despite once having been mind-controlled by him, Clint wastes no time rushing to his side. 

“Loki, what happened?” He kneels down, the space between his eyebrows deeply creased; he even winces at the sight of Loki’s scraped face. 

Any other time Loki would have snapped back, “Why nothing, but one thing can be assured, you don’t get your superhero name for your eyesight.” Instead he blurts out, “My dull-eyed Prince! Here to carry me away at last!” Clint leans back, confused by this bizarre although still-insulting response. 

“Please tell me you took something and that’s why you just called me your prince.” 

“A flower is all!” Loki grins. “A flower, a flower, a _flower_ with pretty blue petals.” He sing-songs to himself, lost completely to the pollen’s effects. 

Clint scrubs at his face.

“Damn it, it just had to be you didn’t it?” he mutters. For a moment, all he does is bite the inside of his cheek. After an internal debate that Loki pays no mind to, Clint hefts him across his shoulders into a fireman’s carry.

If it wasn’t for the fact Loki’s currently unable to walk, or even in his right state of mind, he’d wonder at the creative array of positions he’s been in with the Avengers. First Rogers, then Barnes and now Barton. For here he is, slung across the man’s shoulders like a lamb. It must be a sad life working amongst super soldiers, super humans and super spies. So many supers and not a single one for Hawkeye. Despite the burden of that knowledge, what a strong, dependable human he is!

The thought hits Loki; Clint has an Asgardian noble hanging down his back like a cape!

Giggling snorts burst out of him as he grasps at Clint’s utility belt to give himself a sense of hanging on. Really, it’s quite the funny way to be carried by someone. If only Loki could remember how to change into his Jotun form. Why, Barton could have a fine blue cape. He could decide on the day whether he wanted an Asgardian or a Jotun, a trickster or a monster, Odin’s son or Laufey’s son, Loki the Prince or Loki the King, his decoration depending on his mood.

Loki’s too far gone to feel the gentle squeeze of Clint’s hold. Some might say it’s a gesture of concern rather than of warning, but he’s out of his head and as such neither thought even registers in his mind.

Once he’s been given over to the care of their newfound alien friends, it goes without saying that neither one will ever speak of this accident. It’s pure luck no one saw the pair of them. This experience does not make a difference in their efforts to avoid one another afterwards.

 **4.**  
Wanda is the next one induced into the fellowship of hauling Loki around. Except she escapes the heavy burden by using her powers.

Tony’s the one to suggest the island treat for them all as a way to decompress from constant world-saving. Loki is reading in the living room, while the rest of the Avengers are sprawled out from there to the connecting kitchen. He wouldn’t be here but for the fact they are soon to have a repeat visit from the friendly aliens. They’ve taken a particular liking to himself and Thor (due probably to the fact they are also not natives of Earth). It’s because of this that he has been tethered to the Tower more than he would ever like to be. Earth’s tentative galactic friends feel most comfortable when speaking to Loki, so he’s needed to stay close. Today’s transmission has yet to arrive and is the reason why he’s even amongst the others.

“It’s time for a team vacation! All we ever do is fight together.” Tony announces without preamble. Sam – who doesn’t open his eyes from where he’s laid back on the second couch, Clint dozing at his side – replies:

“You mean what we usually do isn’t team-building exercises?” 

Tony rolls his eyes while Natasha, Bruce and Clint snort. Even Bucky cracks a smile, although it’s so quick Loki’s sure none of the others catch it. 

“If you’re done being a smartass, I booked us a week-long stay at an island resort. I’ve got enough rooms for everyone, so no worries about bunking up. I’ve got us flying out tomorrow at 7 am.”

Loki is silent through the good-natured complaints about the early-morning schedule. Avengers or not, sleeping in is a precious commodity. He keeps his gaze firmly on the same page. With no one being left in the tower, it goes without saying Loki will need to get out. Of course, it doesn’t matter to _him_ one way or another: there are plenty of places he can stay at, but he’s just now made a little nook for some of his books and work, albeit in Bucky’s room. The others would throw out his belongings as they would a rat infestation if they knew. 

Strangely though, Bucky has not complained about this encroachment on his space. Perhaps for the fact that the man can barely see himself as deserving of anything, let alone the idea of privacy. Why should it upset Bucky then to let Loki store spellbooks in his room in the face of those ideas? Of course, none of the others would allow such objects in the Tower were they aware of it. The soldier’s room is therefore the perfect hiding place.

“What about Loki?” 

Bucky’s voice startles everyone, their attention on him first before their eyes turn to Loki. He meets their curiosity with his own cool gaze. Tony seems to have a disgusting taste in his mouth at the mere suggestion. 

It’s no surprise when Steve tentatively offers into the tense awkward pause, “Would you like to come with us, Loki?”

On a normal day, he would have no qualms turning the offer down. However, this week-long trip would give him time away from the pestering calls of the aliens. If anything, Loki supposes he could say yes and still ignore the team while enjoying the luxuries of Stark’s wealth. Besides, Thor would be appeased and stop nagging about him spending too much time alone. However, before he can do anymore than relish the thought of turning Steve Rogers down, Sam speaks up.

“Why are you even offering, Steve? You know he’s just going to say no. And Bucky, why the sudden inclusion? You don’t know the pain in the ass this guy has been. _You_ don’t even know Loki in the first place. How come the buddy-buddy act all the sudden?” 

Sam’s outburst obliterates the lounging atmosphere amongst the team. Clearly having Loki around so much has been silently grating on his nerves for some time. Loki can’t really bring himself to feel sorry for that. 

Before darling Steven can intervene to smooth over, Bucky answers back, his eyes never learning Sam’s.

“He’s helped us. He saved Tony and now he’s keeping these aliens on our side. They like Thor, but they like Loki more.”

So, obligation is what’s at play. Well really, if he turned down the offer now, he’d never forgive himself. A chance to irk wonder bread’s sidekick and guilt trip the Avengers into putting up with his presence without even the slightest bit of effort? Smug satisfaction has Loki struggling to maintain a disinterested and irritated air. 

“I will come along, but don’t expect any ‘team building.’ Aliens or not, I’m not a friend.” 

A day and plane ride later they’re all settling into the resort’s rooms. Once clothes have been unpacked, as a horde the group makes a stampede for the beach with its clear water like glass. In the name of stretching his legs after the flight, Loki follows them. The hot sand beneath his bare feet is relaxing despite its oddly bleached appearance. He settles into a cloth chair, with the scene of the others playing in the water and sand before him highly entertaining.

Loki had always been a fair-skinned child. The sun, and therefore the weather, although similar to that of Asgard, is of a more gentler kind.

One moment he’s watching Peter struggling to surf, Thor close behind him on another board, the next he’s fallen asleep.

The sun has moved by the time he awakens. He blinks, his eyes dried out with gritty eyelashes. Slowly Loki becomes aware of the low-grade stinging all over his body. Sitting up causes him instant nausea, his skin feeling like it’s too tight. He lies back down, focusing on breathing evenly, trying to dispel the rising urge to vomit. That battle is lost when he retches over the side of his chair. Even when he leans back into the chair, everything feels like it’s spinning. Never will he sit out like this again.

It humiliates him when Peter is the one to notice his condition. The boy’s come over in search of drinks in the cooler beside the chair before he glances over, coming to a full stop at what Loki must look like. 

“Guys, there’s something wrong with Loki! I think he’s got heatstroke!” Peter hollers over his shoulder, concerned eyes never leaving him. 

Once again (with infuriating frequency), Loki is in no shape to protest or leave. At least the boy is smart enough to let him stay in his chair for now. He struggles to sit up, his head swimming as the Avengers jog over to them. A growl low in his throat at the cramps that start in his feet when he moves. At once, Peter is hovering over him. 

“What’s wrong?” Helpful, if not irritating at all other times for his boundless enthusiasm. 

“Foot cramps,” he grits through his teeth. Without hesitation, the boy kneels down at the footrest of the lounge chair, grasping both of Loki’s feet before pushing with his thumbs against Loki’s big toes as far back as they’ll go. The relief is immediate with the muscles forced to stretch.

“Don’t touch him! He’s badly sunburned,” Peter barks as Thor gallantly pushes forward to come to the rescue. Ever since Loki has been having these humiliating encounters with the Avengers, his brother has become even more physical. Loki wishes the boy would let go of his toes; he looks ridiculous like this. 

“Kid, we’ve got to move him. How else are we going to pick him up without doing so?” Tony retorts. Of course, his concern isn’t about Loki himself, but Thor’s wrath he’d suffer if he didn’t do something.

Peter bites at his lip, clearly at a loss for that one. Well, the boy was good for two things at least. Unfair to expect too much from him.

“Wanda,” Thor announces. “She’s able to move objects, why not Loki?” 

A flat “No” from Loki and uncomfortable looks from the rest of the team.

“Brother, you are ill and have no say in this!” Thor answers, voice stern. Loki blinks in response. Thor will not take a no on this matter, that much is clear. If he wasn’t sunburned to within an inch of his life and dehydrated to the point of muscle cramps and vomiting, Loki would be in his brother’s face at being commanded to keep quiet in front of the Avengers. These past couple of months he’s lost so much face in front of them already that he can’t stand it. 

During all of this Wanda, who’s standing beside Natasha, keeps quiet. Not until Thor turns his eyes upon her (and so does everyone else) does she speak up, addressing not the God of Thunder, but Loki himself instead. 

“It will be easier to move you this way. I’ll be careful.” 

He dearly wants to tell her no, to scatter everyone hovering over him, but his stomach is churning (he’s going to throw up again soon) and the muscle cramps are starting in his arms and thighs now. Worst of all, his head has begun to ache, a low grinding pressure in his sinuses. 

“Fine,” Loki snaps. “But I don’t need an entourage.” 

The rest of the team takes the hint (all but Peter and Thor) to go back to the waves and sandcastles. Wanda is indeed careful with him, but still Loki doesn’t enjoy the floating support her telekinesis has him in. There’s only the barest of pressure from her ability against his skin, which is a blessing. Somehow the four of them make it back with no incident, and Wanda deposits him gently on the sheets (Thor pulling back the duvet). 

She stays long enough to be sure he won’t pass out while Thor and Peter get cold wet washcloths, water, and the small fan from Clint’s room. Loki’s glad she doesn’t try to comfort him, just simply keeps her eye on him during the wait. Once those two return she ducks out to join the others. Good; the fewer people to witness the consequences of his idiotic mistake, the better. 

“Thor, I’ve got this. I’ll call for you when Loki’s not feeling so-” Cue his vomiting into the wastebasket at his bedside. “So sick.” Peter finishes with raised eyebrows. 

Thor frowns, shaking his head as he sets down the fan and cups of water at once. 

“But he is not well.” 

“Just for a little bit, Thor. It’ll be easier if it’s just me and Loki.” 

It’s clear the god doesn’t believe him, but there’s very little he can do to help. Oh, poor savior Thor, sent away like the underfoot nuisance he often is.

Peter turns back to him, brows pinched as he settles the damp washcloths across his forehead, in the crook of his armpits, and carefully placed around his groin. The boy is remarkably unbothered by all of this. He sets the fan on the lowest setting before offering a glass of water with a straw. Although Loki’s stomach is lurching in protest, he takes a small sip. The liquid hitting his roiling stomach doesn’t promise to stay down long. Even when he vomits a few minutes later, Peter’s only concerned about getting fluids in him. No excessive touching or stroking his hair as Thor might’ve tried to do. In fact, besides taking Loki’s temperature every fifteen minutes mixed with endless glasses of water, Peter plays on his phone. 

“You’re not bothered with so easily being made caretaker by the others?” Loki can’t resist asking when his temperature has been declared normal (for his kind anyway) and he no longer feels like vomiting when he opens his mouth.

Peter shakes his head, tapping away on his phone a few more times before putting it aside.

“No, you needed help and I wanted to do it. Besides,” Peter grins. “As much as your brother loves you - he _does_ \- this is the last situation you should be agitated in. Besides, I’ve never gotten to talk to you before!” 

Loki blinks in surprise. “So you use the excuse of heat stroke to do so?” 

A flush runs across Peter’s face. “No - no, of course not! I just meant when you felt better. I’ve never talked to another god before.” 

The flattery is plain as day, but right now, Loki will take it. No doubt the boy’s been entirely indoctrinated against him, but that doesn’t seem to stopper his interest. Perhaps he wants to compare sides to add up who seems to be telling the truth. Regardless of that thought, Loki shifts himself onto his side and after a drink he’s ready. Peter also lies on his side, his entire being attentive.

A smile creeps over Loki’s lips at the sight. “You have not seen true beauty until you’ve been to Asgard. It is dazzling in comparison…”

Neither one realizes the silent crowd of Avengers just out of sight of the room sharing looks of shock. Both are too caught up in the storytelling to give thought to anything else.

 **5.**  
It’s a clear sign of trust and true friendship when he and Thor are hosted at the friendly aliens’ home planet in the name of the Avengers and Asgard. The feast is varied and seemingly endless, as are the beverages. The effect of their alcohol is strong enough to surpass even his tolerance (he comes to find out too late). Loki is warm; light. At some point, one of their hosts braids Loki’s hair into a coronet and plaits Thor’s mane into one thick braid, so fascinated with their hair. 

Hours pass before he can drink and eat no more. Even though being brother to Thor has given him a prestigious appetite, he has to admit to defeat this time around. After many rounds of goodnights, he stumbles up the stairs towards their room, tripping onto his hands and knees (thankfully outside of their hosts). So okay, he _might_ have over indulged in that amazing beverage. Who can blame him, with how their hosts continued to ply him with it? Rude to say no. 

Thor’s boots step into his vision. Loki’s gaze trails up Thor’s frame to find his face glowing with amusement. 

“Brother, I thought you handled your liquor better?” Thor teases, his large hands enveloping Loki’s as he helps him to his feet. 

“I’m fine,” he protests, as the floor sways, tumbling him into Thor’s chest. In this position he can feel the chuckle that rumbles through his brother’s chest. He smiles down at him (how long has it been since he saw an expression of true happiness towards him?) before he’s sweeping Loki up into his arms. 

“Thor, put me down!” 

Of course, he ignores the yelp to continue up the stairs to their room. Loki certainly doesn’t appreciate being held in Thor’s muscular arms or how protected and delicate he feels. However, in this cradled position, he has no shame resting his head on his brother’s shoulder. Without realizing it, he dozes, startled when Thor carefully puts him into bed. It’s old ingrained habit that he reaches out as Thor draws back to stand up. Loki manages to grasp his forearm before he can move out of range. Thor goes still as if frozen. 

“Thank you, brother. It’s been some time since you’ve needed to carry me.” 

A soft smiles creases the corner of Thor’s eyes. He puts his hand over Loki’s with a gentle squeeze. 

“Of course, Loki. I will carry you whenever you need me to.” 

Warmth flares in his chest. It’s as if they’ve returned to being children again. Close and affectionate with little worry of favoritism or the crown on their father’s snow-white hair. He swallows around the lump in his throat. Oh, to go back. 

“You’ve never given up on me. No matter that I hurt you. Why? I would have cut myself off long ago in your place.” 

Thor nods, gazing down at Loki’s hand, which he’s now clasped between both of his palms. It doesn’t bother him as the minutes pass, Thor thinking on his answer. Truthfully, Loki would have snapped a sharp comment and left. A good quality that Thor isn’t that kind of man. 

He’s nearly asleep, his eyelids drooping shut, when Thor answers back.

“I love you, Loki. Is that not enough for you?” He smiles to soften his words. “Now good night; you will be feeling this in the morning.”

Loki manages a weak chuckle, nearly unconscious. 

“With more of that drink and your muscles I shall be fine...” he whispers, slipping into sleep by the end of the sentence. Thor places a light good night kiss on his forehead. 

**-1**  
Hide and seek with the team turns out to be quite the game. Partially due to the fact that Natasha is chosen as the seeker. Everyone – including Loki himself – darts off as soon as she closes her eyes to start counting to a hundred. It couldn’t be more of an unspoken challenge to avoid getting caught by her.

By this time, it shouldn’t be a surprise that an accident happens. The shock is from the fact that it isn’t Loki for once. 

He’s still looking for a hiding spot when there’s a _crack_ in the tree just in front of him and Peter Parker comes crashing out of a large oak. It’s not pretty, the way he lands with flailing limbs managing to knock his face against the ground in the midst of his panic. By the time Loki is at his side, Peter’s nose is gushing blood. He pinches the bridge of Peter’s nose in an effort to staunch the flow. 

“What happened? You didn’t use your webs at all.” He can’t help but scold, grasping the boy’s chin. “Look at me.” 

Peter does as he’s told and from what Loki can tell there’s nothing wrong with his eyes. Loki releases his chin and nose, allowing Peter to speak and staunch his own bleeding. 

“I’ve got them in my pocket, but I didn’t think the branch I was on was going to break.”

The eye roll is second nature to Loki. Peter is a breakable version of Thor. 

“Of course, you didn’t.” Loki stands up. “Let us get you back to the others. I don’t have knowledge of Midgardian medicine.” 

The moment Peter tries to stand, it’s clear his ankle is injured from the fall when he grits his teeth in pain and sinks back to the ground. Loki shakes his head, glad at the very least it’s not him this time, before crouching down again. 

“Get on. I’ll carry you back. It would be your luck to be noticed by criminals looking for revenge on Spider-Man when alone.” 

Peter blinks taken aback. “You know my superhero identity?” 

Loki returns the question with a flat expression. “You think a change of clothes will fool me? It is obvious by your voice and body that Spider-Man is you, but clearly the masses are dumb enough to let a bit of cloth make the difference. Midgardians truly will believe anything if they try hard enough. It’s what makes your people so easy to control. Now be quiet and come here. You can sermonize me when you will not bleed on my clothes.” 

Thankfully, the boy complies without a comment, wrapping an arm down and across Loki’s chest as Loki grabs his knees before bouncing him higher up on his back. Without a doubt he’ll have blood on his hoodie, but at least his order keeps Peter quiet for a little bit. It will have him pondering over his answer to that insult. Most entertaining that the boy feels the need to answer back to his snipes when everyone else does their best to ignore him. Loki’s looking forward to hearing his reasoning. He’s found that just as much as they love to fool themselves, humans also enjoy puzzling themselves into knots. 

**1+**  
This blood-soaked man - _Deadpool_ Peter squeaks - carries them both with relative ease. Loki has the uncomfortable position of being on the man’s hip as if he were an infant carried by his mother. Peter dangles from Deadpool’s shoulder, resigned to this unwanted arrangement. It goes without saying their clothes are now positively soaked with the blood of the agents the mercenary’s killed. Once again reduced to helpless circumstances such as this. What he would give to never to be carried again.

When the merc first catches sight of him, Deadpool grins - eerie the way the fabric stretches, gruesome-like.

“Oh my, now aren’t you a pretty boy? Look at those eyes! Like you’d murder me right now if you could. Oh Spidey! He’s almost as cute as you are! Think he’ll turn into his blue form any time soon?”

Loki’s glare is ineffective at doing anything more than producing more cooing from the strange man. He’s creepy, and that’s a feat in comparison to what monsters can be found on Asgard.

Peter interrupts the man’s rambling sweet talk. “What’re you doing here, Deadpool? The Avengers said no snooping around anymore.”

A pat on the butt has Peter squeaking in protest.

“Well, baby boy, the reason is that the Avengers put me up to this. Stark said he’d pay out the nose for me to look after Mr. Goddess here since he’s attracted a lot of attention lately. Those aliens who love him so much accidentally let it slip about their new buddy. Now their enemies are coming to see the infamous friend in person.” Again that leering smile and being shifted higher up on the mercenary's hip. Loki has never been more revolted in his life. “Besides, I’ve always wanted to meet Mr. Troublemaker in person. He’s got such a reputation; like everyone else, I wanted to see him for myself.”

Loki curls his lip at that. How dare this freak of a man speak of him, a Prince, as if he’s some odd creature or curiosity? “Do I measure up, mortal?” There’s something about Deadpool that raises his hackles. Even Thor would be preferable to this killer.

The way the mask stretches upwards indicates Deadpool’s raised his eyebrows at being addressed by such a title.

“Why, yes you do, _Mr. Goddess_. You’re just as feisty as I hoped. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Deadpool-,” Peter starts.

“I got this, Spidey.” He reassures not moving his masked gaze from Loki’s as he continues heading to their safe point with the rest of the team. “You’re not the only freak around here, Loki even with the fact you change into a blue alien. Hell, the X-men have one of those too and she’s a sexpot. And another thing _Princess_ , stop acting like you’ve got the world on your shoulders. Whether or not you like it. you’re a part of the Avengers now. Do you think Spidey would have tried to rescue you otherwise?”

Deadpool pauses and Loki feels a fleeting squeeze on his left knee from Peter.

“Bad example, he’d still have tried even if you stabbed him.” He shakes his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. “You try to take over the goddamn world and you’ve still got people who believe you can do better. Try living when no one thinks you’ll amount to anything more than villian, no matter how many people you save. No matter that when you try to do the right thing no one notices or cares because of the monster they see. So, you don’t impress or intimidate me with your hipster bad attitude, _Prince Loki_.”

Loki blinks taken aback from this change creepy oddball to snarling disdain. From there on they continue in silence Loki mulling over Deadpool’s words. It would be easy enough to dismiss the mercenary, if not for the fact, he speaks an uncomfortable truth. The team has taken him in no matter how grudgingly on parts of some of them. The vacation was out of obligation for the time with the robots there's no hiding that. But every time else he’s been helped has been from their concern and, from Peter, compassion, in particular. The boy seems to have become quite attached and, it makes his stomach squirm, he himself truly likes Peter.

“Loki.”

He looks over Wade’s shoulder to see the boy watching him face red from the blood rushing to his head. Peter opens his mouth but is interrupted by the booming voice of Thor.

“Loki!”

There’s only time enough to realize the entirety of Avengers has shown up before they’re swamped. Deadpool releases his hold on him at once and he’s enfolded into the hubbub of inquiries about what happened during their mission, is he okay, what happened to Peter? Thor by this point has a protective arm around his waist, but all that Loki can notice is how Deadpool has melted away not even sparing them a second glance.

 _Jealousy,_ he realizes. The mercenary is bitter about what he, Loki, is so casual to dismiss. For better or worse he’s a part of the Avengers now. Somehow the thought isn’t as unsettling as before. Perhaps with Peter’s help he can convince Deadpool to join them on an outing with the Avengers. From Peter’s earlier words it’s clear they aren’t fans of the creepy man either. He wouldn’t be able to call himself the God of Mischief if he didn’t continue to stir the pot just a little bit even if he isn’t planning world domination anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Please check out my beta's ao3 which would be under the name of zilia. She did me the honor of putting in all my missing commas and leaving me comments of encouragement and humor. I also credit her with the +1 section because without her suggestion I'd still be stagnating over what to do. Thank you so much for your work!


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